Boston had never really minded storms.

Growing up on a farm meant he'd spent most of his life around them. You noticed clouds more when your day depended on the weather. You learned what the sky looked like before rain, what wind felt like before things got bad.

Apparently, not everyone grew up like that.

Because Bur Oak had gone from completely normal to complete chaos in maybe ten minutes.

Dinner had just wrapped up when the sky started getting darker than it should've been. Not a regular evening dark either. The kind where clouds rolled in thick and low until everything outside looked gray and strange.

At first, people thought it was cool. Campers had crowded around the windows, pointing outside, excited about the weather moving in. Then the thunder started. Not distant thunder. The kind that cracked hard enough to shake the windows.

Now, rain hammered against the roof of the main hall loud enough that conversations had started turning into raised voices. Boston had been helping stack chairs against one of the walls when he glanced toward the windows.

Rain was coming down hard now. Really hard. Outside, the camp flag snapped violently in the wind. Folding chairs near the campfire area had already tipped over. Near the lake, kayaks had started shifting against one another.

Another crack of thunder hit. Several younger campers jumped. Then the lights overhead flickered. Once. Twice. And went dark.

The room immediately exploded. Some kids screamed. Some laughed. A few started yelling over each other. Boston just stood there for a second. "...Give it a second." he said to a few campers near him.

Emergency lights clicked on a few moments later, filling the hall with dim orange light. Counselors started moving immediately after that. Making sure campers were calm. Checking windows. Trying to keep everyone occupied.

Boston looked outside again. The weather had somehow gotten worse. A lot worse. The flagpole bent slightly in the wind. The chairs by the campfire area had started blowing across the ground. Near the dock, one of the kayaks shifted enough to nearly flip.

Bryson walked over beside him and stared outside. "...That's probably bad."

Boston looked at his brother. Looked outside. Looked back. "...Yeah." He paused. "...C'mon...let’s go handle it." No hesitation. No discussion.

The second they stepped outside, rain slammed into them. Cold. Heavy. The kind that soaked through clothes almost immediately. Boston didn't even react. Just pushed wet hair back and headed toward the campfire area.

It was just water. His grandparents always used to say: "Sugar melts, shit floats." And Boston definitely wasn't sugar.

While Bryson worked on gathering chairs and smaller things, Boston handled the heavier stuff. Folding tables. Equipment bins. Dragging stacked chairs underneath cover before the wind carried them somewhere else.

Rain rolled down his face and soaked through everything almost immediately. By the time they got to the kayaks, his shirt was completely stuck to him, and his shoes made awful squelching sounds every step.

The lake looked different in weather like this. Darker. Meaner. Waves pushed against the dock hard enough to make it creak. Boston grabbed one side of a kayak and hauled it back farther from the waterline.

Then another.

Then one more.

By the time they finally headed back toward the main hall, he was soaked all the way through and honestly didn't care anymore. Bryson looked miserable, shivering slightly. Boston looked completely unaffected. “You should get a towel,” Boston told him

“Says you” Bryson said back

Walking back inside, the doors opened, and warm air hit immediately. Heads turned. Mostly because the room had gone quiet for a second, Boston blinked. Everyone was kind of staring at him. "...What?"

He looked down at himself and his white tank top, which was completely soaked, making it very see-through. "...Oh."

He wasn’t one to show off like that, so he just headed to the kitchen since only counselors were allowed back there. Plus, he was sure the supply closet had rags and towels in it. He was moving a little quicker, and he was a big guy, so when he turned the corner fast, he didn't really look until someone collided with his wet chest. Knocking them down

“Oh shoot...sorry.....didnt mean to...do that”

The camp buildings were fairly old. So it's no surprise when things break or fall apart. A lot of stuff had been redone over the years...and some things definitely still needed attention.

Boston started to notice that the railing on the left side of the stairs that went up to one of the storage sheds was leaning and loose. Every time he had to go in there, he noticed it. It bugged him, but he didn’t have time to fix it. Plus, technically, it wasn’t his job to fix it (though he always ended up helping with those things).

So for now, he just wrote it in on the notebook that was in the staff room on the page labeled ‘Things To Do’, so that it would hopefully eventually get done.

Though once camp started and it got busy, he kind of forgot about it for now. Instead, he was chopping firewood, wrangling campers, and was in charge of most of the water activities. Enough hard work that he’d pass out in bed after each night.

This morning though, he woke up early and went out to start setting up for the day. The rotations today were a lot of physical and lake stuff. So he was preparing for it ahead of time while it was quiet in the morning, and he could work without distractions.

As the sun rose just a little higher, other counselors started to come out and help out. Then the campers woke up and went to breakfast.

Boston was moving some chairs around, picking them up, and sorting out the ones that looked like the legs were about to snap. He found about 3 chairs that were no good anymore, so he picked them up and was going to take them to the main hall for now.

While he was walking there, hauling the chairs easily, two campers ran over towards him, talking fast and loud about how {user} is hurt and someone needed to go help them.

Boston didn't even care about the chair anymore; he dropped it off to the side of the path and followed the campers quickly. They led him over to the storage shed where {user} lay in the grass, looking like they were in pain.

Boston saw them, and then he saw the railing on the stairs that was now broken, parts of it in the grass. His jaw clenched. But he quickly smoothed it over and looked at the campers “I'll take care of {user}. You guys go ahead to breakfast, okay? Thanks you two”

He saw the kids leave and quickly went over to {user} “dammit...are you okay? Where are you hurt? Is it bad? Did you hit your head?

He asked them a lot, worried about them. Boston didn't wait either; his arms went under their legs and back as he lifted them up easily and started to carry them over to his cabin, since it was just down the path.

Once he got in, he set them down on his bed and grabbed the first aid kit he knew he had “shit....I knew I should have just fixed that damn railing myself.” He looked back over at them. Taking the blame onto himself “Where's it hurt? So I can fix this”

.